The Perturbation Repercussion
by Crystalrose7788
Summary: Sheldon said he never left the train stations on his journey, but that was a lie. In fact, he had arranged to meet someone. But who?
1. The Enzyme Cascade

**Disclaimer: I do not own any Big Bang Theory characters. **

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><p><strong>The Perturbation Repercussion<strong>

**Chapter 1 – Enzyme Cascade**

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><p>It had to have been the wine.<p>

Yes, that had to have been the reason he had acted so irrationally, reacted so strongly to what was a mere union of mucous membranes.

Amy Farrah Fowler's devil wine.

Perhaps she had deposited her own wanton enzymes in the concoction, enzymes that had quickly bound to his serotonin receptors and caused that wave of pleasure that moved from the top of his head to the tips of his toes.

The jolt that had made his body move to hers, his hands to her waist, his fingers into her quivering flesh.

Sheldon's body shook as he stood in an uncharacteristically cold shower at the Napa Valley Bed and Breakfast. He looked at his reddened hands and the endogenous tremor affecting them. Quickly he turned up the temperature until the water felt like hot needles striking his skin. Yet the tremor was still present.

What in the world was going on here?

Had he enjoyed kissing Amy Farrah Fowler? Yes, indeed he had. What did that mean, exactly? What did that mean for the relationship? Was it in fact the devil wine he had imbibed, the grape juice that burned, that had infected him with this feeling?

When he'd laid his hands upon Amy, drawing her closer to him, her cardigan had barely disguised the warmth of her skin beneath it as well as the feeling of slight trembling from her person. The scent of brownies still remained on her thin lips as he connected with them. The moisture from the wine had in essence made him more acutely aware of her smell, of the feeling of her lips on his.

Grape juice that burned like hellfire and the sort of religious-tinted babble his mother spouted so often in his childhood, affecting his judgment and altering his perception of physical contact. _Shelly, you seen what it done to your daddy_, he could just hear Mary Cooper saying. _When it gets into your brain, it makes you do all kinds of crazy stuff._

He looked down to see a curious swelling. Drat. It had gotten to that too.

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><p>She had said "that was nice" and she had meant it. Amy Farrah Fowler was awful at lying, that Sheldon knew. So now what? What was the next step?<p>

Before he could decide if an amendment to the relationship agreement was required, he needed to collect more data. That is, he had to eliminate the variables that may have clouded his judgment and made him more susceptible to enjoying such an act. No Alco FA-4 diesel locomotive pulling meticulously restored 1915 Pullman first class coaches. No tie and suit. No candles. No wine. No brand new train-loving friend. Just Amy and him.

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><p>After finishing his shower, Sheldon stepped out of the crudely converted clawfoot tubshower, dried himself off and redressed, shaking his head at the audacity of this bed and breakfast. What kind of a hovel forced human beings—_strangers_, no less—to share the same bathroom? Amy had not mentioned this particular feature of what was supposedly a _romantic_ location. Surely she would not consider athlete's foot, herpes and syphilis to be romantic!

Sheldon stepped out into the creaky wooden hallway, silently cursing the noise as he emerged from the steam-filled bathroom. The housekeeper stood outside the door, picking up her cleaning supplies as he walked past her without so much as a glance.

"Was it to your satisfaction?" Sheldon heard the woman say. He turned toward her abruptly, a look of confusion on his face until he recognized her. Before entering the restroom this evening, he had sought her out specifically for the purpose of disclosing his high expectations for sanitization and how that would reflect on the comment card.

"As much I could hope you'd do, being as you were only able to hear the abridged version of my requirements," he replied with a little nod of the head. With that, he continued down the hallway to his room, hoping to reach the door before Amy could intercept his movement.

He shut the door behind him with a soft exhalation. He had avoided Amy Farrah Fowler successfully, but unlike the many other occasions when this act was to be lauded, he felt uncomfortable. Instead, he felt as if he would have liked to have seen her again before going to bed.

"Three, two, one," Sheldon whispered to himself. He followed his countdown with a sigh of relief. _Phew_—his moment of temporary weakness had passed.

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><p>"You two are awfully quiet," Howard commented as the group sat clustered together on the modern train ride back home. Howard and Bernadette sat across from Sheldon and Amy, especially shocked that Sheldon could not seem to unglue his eyes from the fast-moving scenery. Amy kept her legs crossed and hands folded demurely in her lap, while Sheldon's upper body was leaning as far away from his girlfriend as possible. He continued to stare out the window, not even seeming to care that his butt was planted solidly against Amy's left leg all the while.<p>

"What'd you guys end up doing for the rest of the train ride the other night?" Howard added, his leg bouncing nervously on the floor. He exchanged a worried quick glance with Bernadette. "We… couldn't find you."

"We were in the control room," Amy replied curtly.

Howard gave them a suggestive glance. "Doing what?"

"Being shown how to bring the train through a crossing," Sheldon explained.

"You mean, Sheldon actually let you invade his time with Eric?" Howard said, looking at Amy with a chuckle. He hadn't prepared for the look of death he received.

Sheldon abruptly turned away from the window and glared at the engineer.

"In fact, I invited her, and she joined me," he snapped. He squared off with Howard, his jaw clenched. "There's nothing else to say."

"Well, Howie was just wondering, because I thought we were going to—"

"Mind your own business," Sheldon interrupted, his voice laced with irritation. A tense silence followed, as the pairs remained in their seats, facing each other with nothing left to say.

"Huh," Howard snorted, shifting in his seat. He looked at his watch and cleared his throat once he saw that this ride was far from over. "Well, _this_ isn't uncomfortable or anything."

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><p><strong>AN: Please review! Future chapters will be longer; I promise!**


	2. The Maternal Hypocrisy

**A/N: Thank you for those who are reviewing, following, and favoriting this story! Thank you all so much for reviewing, Hazelra7, ShamyLover, beckygirl98, kimbee73, and mirrorOfsin! **

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><p><strong>Chapter 2 – The Maternal Hypocrisy <strong>

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><p>Before he could plan and carry out his experiment to initiate a kiss with Amy for a second time, Sheldon was skirted away with Howard Wolowitz on a trip to Texas. In the course of his trip, a string had broken. Another force that had held Sheldon back from sufficiently lowering his inhibitions and enjoying physical intimacy had snapped in his face at the sight of his mother <em>making the beast with two backs<em>. It was _she _who had been the one to warn him of the dangers of alcohol. _She'd_ been the one to caution him against premarital sex. It was a sin, she said. One that would condemn him to hell.

And yet, there she was, on the family couch with a man she had known for less than a year. Naked. Genitals touching. He'd checked the bathroom storage—no menses collecting devices were to be seen. Procreation was long past being an option. Less than a year!

He had not adopted the religious aspects of his upbringing, but he had used elements of it to create a sizeable barrier that kept him from partaking in flesh-based activities like sexual intercourse. Now his barrier had a hairline crack running through it, borne of vintage trains, wine, a catalytic kiss, and created with a hammer made of maternal hypocrisy.

What was he to do? He wanted to explore the possibility that it was the combination of factors on Valentine's day that had made him lust for Amy Farrah Fowler. He was willing to kiss her again, but was frightened of what else could come of it. His mother was actually _wallowing_ in what came of it—she had even stated that her boyfriend's butt was more perfect than she was. A lie. He'd seen it through the window and it was average at best.

Sheldon sat on the plane in the window seat, staring down at the clouds over the surface of the earth. Gravity was a law that continually exerted a force on the plane that required it to continue moving or else fall to the earth below. The energy the plane was creating was being expended as thrust and heat, diligently upholding the law of conservation of energy. Laws of physics did not have exceptions. But the laws of his upbringing—Mary Cooper's strongly imposed law of chastity, for one—had been cast aside like a sack of corn.

And he didn't know what in the world to do about it.

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><p>Amy was shocked to see the Skype invitation at this hour of the night. It was nearly midnight and yet Sheldon wanted to talk to her. Perhaps he'd accidentally hit a button while unpacking his laptop after his Texas excursion. She waited several seconds, wondering if he'd realize what he'd done. But the invitation remained. She sat down in front of her laptop.<p>

"Sheldon?"

"Good evening, Amy," Sheldon said, his face curved into a rather feline smile. It was clear that he was in bed, because the headboard behind him was patently obvious.

"Good evening, Sheldon. I trust you are settled back in at home," she replied, smiling back at him, though confused as to what this was all about. Her emotions were guarded at this point, because since that fateful kiss, Sheldon had neither spoken of it again to her, even via phone call from Texas. "How was the trip with Howard?"

"Okay," he said.

"Anything interesting happen?"

He kept his mouth awkwardly shut, and shook his head with his eyes wide open.

"Why don't we talk about Napa Valley instead?" he offered.

She was taken aback and visibly gasped.

"Well, uh, did you enjoy staying at the bed and breakfast?" she asked him.

"I am," he said. "Although I was glad to be able to use my own bathroom again. That… common bathroom at the bed and breakfast made me feel like—"

"It was impeccably clean, Sheldon," Amy cut in. "Bernadette even commented that it rivaled her culture hoods in sterility. Did you say something to the housekeeper or something?"

"In fact I did," Sheldon said, his smile growing for a moment. "I would have preferred a new shower curtain, but other than that, the housekeeper's job was adequate."

"Just adequate?" Amy replied, her mouth agape. "I took a shower right after you left the bathroom and even _then_, I could see my reflection in the tub!"

"You mean you—?" Sheldon began, and then something odd occurred to him that interrupted his chain of thought. His eyes drifted off into space, his mind's eye creating an image of the scene. Amy Farrah Fowler had peered at her naked reflection in the tub. Not only that, but it would have had to be the kind of reflection that revealed all sorts of private areas, including the region of her waist that he had held onto during that kiss. That, and the zone that mommies and daddies bumped together. Sheldon's breathing quickened in his throat.

"Sheldon?" Amy asked after a minute or so of lull, shocking her boyfriend back to the screen in front of him. Curses to Skype! Amy had seen his entire descent into a rather outrageous daydream. It actually felt rather scandalous, the thought of her viewing him as he pictured her showering at the bed and breakfast.

"Yes? Sorry about that," he quickly said, attempting to recover. "What was I saying?"

"You were going to ask me something about my shower," she countered.

"Right," he said, feeling strangely flustered. His t-shirt clung to his back and suddenly he realized he was sweating rather profusely. He used a hand to wipe the back of his neck and cringed at the dampness of it. "How was it?" he spouted, studying her eyes as they studied him through the pixelated internet medium. He'd never felt so… febrile, so _vulnerable._

"Fine," she replied, her eyebrow cocked with concern at the odd question. "You left me at least two minutes of hot water, so that was nice."

_That was nice._ Wait—was that sarcastic? Was that the same kind of nice as the kiss? Better? Worse? Actually not nice at all?

"Nice like the kiss?" he blurted. Immediately when the words left his mouth, he inhaled sharply. He'd said it aloud, and had not meant to do so. If he'd not been on Skype with Amy, he would have covered his mouth.

Amy perked up a bit at the first mention of the kiss. There it was. _Finally._ She held her breath. So it had existed in reality and not in some kind of strange dream state elicited by the wine, or perhaps from getting clubbed in the head by Sheldon's new friend Eric and being temporarily knocked unconscious.

"No," she began carefully, "the kiss was much much better than that. _Very_ nice."

"So when you say 'that was nice' in regards to the hot water, were you being sarcastic?" Sheldon asked. "Or was it actually—"

"I was being sarcastic," Amy replied, her face turning red with embarrassment. "But I was not being sarcastic when I said it about the kiss. Now, _that_ was nice."

"You just said very nice, and now you say it was nice," Sheldon shot back, clearly unnerved by her reply. "Which one is it?"

"It was the best moment of my life, actually," Amy commented flatly. "I was almost afraid that it hadn't really happened. I'm glad you mentioned it."

"Sarcasm?" Sheldon asked her, cocking his eyebrow.

She shook her head adamantly and then looked him right in the eye.

"No, Sheldon."

At the words from her mouth and the intense way Amy was looking at him through the computer screen, Sheldon felt chills run down his spine. He felt a lump in his throat and swallowed loudly. Now what? Relationships seemed to be all about compromise, about meeting in the middle on hotly contested issues, and that was what his relationship had been about so far. Star Wars versus romantic comedies, neurobiology versus physics, Raggedy Ann and Andy versus R2D2 and C-3PO; the list went on and on. But this—this was a common agreement. There was no homeostasis about this, no _balance_ that ensured that whatever would happen, that it not tip to one extreme. If he hated it and she loved it, then they'd have to meet in the middle—he, on the one hand, would ensure that it wouldn't continue long or happen often, and she would pull in the opposite direction in order to make it happen at all. His mother screwing all of this up by not obeying her own unbreakable laws about chastity made this all the more confusing and frightening.

Even so, he had to kiss Amy again, just to see. The _n_ of this experiment was equal to 1, which was not nearly enough data points for him to reach a conclusion as to how he felt about it. He had no basis for comparison. It was so unlike anything he'd ever done, much like the first time he'd tried Indian food.


	3. The Experimental Parameters

**A/N: Thank you to the reviewers and story favoriters/followers. The action will be picking up and I will be bridging the gap as to where Sheldon goes and what he does when he leaves, in case you are wondering where this is going exactly. Please review!**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER 3 – The Experimental Parameters <strong>

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><p>"Good," Sheldon said to Amy, after a long pause, following the single word by another awkward, intense silence that begged resolution. "Do you wanna hang out tomorrow?" he finally blurted.<p>

"I hadn't considered that you would want to meet up tomorrow," Amy said, a hint of concern at her eyebrow. "Unfortunately, I wouldn't be able to rearrange the experiment I have planned for that day."

"Experiment?" No, she couldn't do this! He had set up his parameters and was prepared to kiss her again, but she was making this very difficult.

"Yes, determining the preferred alcoholic beverage of the slug."

If she only knew what _his_ experiment would be, she would dump her ill-conceived mollusk experiment. Of course, if she was told what his experiment would be, that would add another variable, one in which she could manipulate her appearance, conversation topics, or the environment to attain a better outcome. She would have to be left in the dark about his plans.

"Excuuuse me?" he deadpanned, still attempting to get back in line with scientific thinking.

"It has been established that slugs are drawn to alcohol, and it is a common mechanism for killing garden slugs. My hypothesis is that they are drawn to particular flavoring agents. My PI's hypothesis is that they are drawn to the alcohol content. This experiment will determine who is correct."

"Is this gonna be published?" he blurted. "It doesn't really rank up there with the great unanswered questions of our time."

"I beg to disagree," she remarked. "But I will publish, if the results are intriguing. Most likely the Journal of Alcoholism and Drug Dependence."

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><p>At their very next date night occurring a day later than he would have preferred, Sheldon was jittery with impatience. Attempting the follow-up kiss at the end of the night was what he would do, for he could disguise it as a good night kiss. If the kiss turned out well, the fact that the date was over would prevent things from going any further. If the kiss did not turn out well—well, he was on his way out the door already.<p>

"I'm really surprised you're willing to take the bus home, Sheldon," Amy commented, as soon as it was made abundantly clear that he was getting ready to leave. He had since stood up from the couch, slung his messenger bag over his shoulder, and was now standing awkwardly above her seated form. She fumbled with her words as she attempted to slow his imminent departure. "I mean, I picked you up today; I could just as easily—"

"Amy, I made it very clear at the onset of our date today that I would be using public transportation to see myself home," Sheldon replied, gesticulating as he spoke. "I am not going to diverge from that plan."

She blinked at him, obviously confused.

"Plan?"

Sheldon squirmed where he stood. Now he was uncomfortable. Yes, it was a plan that would save him from awkwardness after the kiss that was mere minutes away, but she didn't need to know that. Of course, Sheldon and spontaneity never crossed paths—except on that fated train ride when he'd planted one on Amy seemingly out of nowhere.

"I must become more comfortable riding the bus," he said, "because I am a grown man and that's what grown men do."

"Actually," Amy commented, "I would argue that grown men _drive_."

The corner of Sheldon's mouth perked up as he responded.

"Touché."

_Is now the time?_ his mind screamed. He had just uttered a witticism along with a charming smirk, which would make a pleasing segue into the kiss. However, it had not yet been established that this was a kiss that signified 'good night.' Kissing her spontaneously without making that perfectly clear would set a dangerous precedent, one in which Amy would expect kisses at random. The only time that he would allow a kiss to occur during this experimental period would be at the end of their date. He had to abide by that rule.

"Good night, Amy," he heard himself say. He remained in place as he said the words, instantly realizing how strange he must have appeared. Normally he moved to the door before bidding her farewell. Drat!

Even so, Amy didn't seem to be perturbed by it. She seemed to mildly deflate, as was customary, and replied in kind.

"Good night, Sheldon."

Without warning, he cleared the distance between them. His face moved towards hers and his lips met her own. At the same time, his hands moved to her hips to find that she was wobbling back and forth. With his eyes shut, he could feel the warm exhalation of breath through her nose as he kissed her. The scent of her skin was new and intoxicating and the tips of his fingers could sense her thudding heartbeat through her abdominal muscles. The last time he'd kissed her, all he'd tasted was brownies and wine—now he could taste _her_, and it was a very different sort of taste.

The kiss ended sooner than he'd desired, but he had absolutely _had_ to end it, lest he make it obvious how fascinated he was by the act and how easily it would be to continue.

"Hoo," Amy gently cooed as she dropped back down from tiptoe, staring up at him with hungry hazel eyes.

"Good night, Amy," Sheldon said once more. With a little bow, he backed up and headed for the door. As he opened the door to let himself out, he slid his tongue along his lips, taking in the last bit of Amy's pheromones.

"Thank you," Amy replied, now smiling broadly, her hands clasped in front of her and head bowed appreciatively.

Sheldon's face twisted with confusion.

"For what?"

Now it was Amy's turn to be surprised. Had that kiss not been what Sheldon perceived to be a mere obligatory action, now that he had opened that door on the train? Had he enjoyed it as well? _Hoo boy._

"Good night, Sheldon," Amy countered carefully. No use having Sheldon suddenly say the wrong thing. Right now, he was perfect.

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><p><strong>AN: This story will be picking up in action, also covering after Sheldon goes away. Stay tuned!**


	4. The Dynamic Disequilibrium

**CHAPTER 4 – The Dynamic Disequilibrium **

Sheldon sat on the bus home after the fifth of such dates, considering where the relationship had gone since Valentine's Day. He and Amy were now kissing at the end of every date, a kiss initiated by him each and every time. Never in his life had he ever guessed he'd be living such a conventional existence, behaving like the lesser species of Leonard Hofstadter and Howard Wolowitz. He was destined for greatness—a Nobel Prize, an unprecedented understanding of the universe and all it encompassed, and the ability to bless the planet with _Homo novus_.

Of course, he wasn't in a big hurry to give the world his progeny. But if he was, would Amy be the one to carry his child?

He _had_ been with Amy Farrah Fowler for many years now, and this most recent progression was a major one but one that was now pleasing to him. Hopefully Amy was also satisfied with this significant step and would stop nagging him about things like second base, coitus, and moving in together. He was nowhere near ready for any more changes.

Yes, first base was good enough for him and that is where he would stay. Nothing would change his mind about that.

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><p>As he continued with his day-to-day existence living with Leonard, visiting Amy, and returning to his apartment each night, Sheldon never imagined that his world was in for another major change. He'd been content to continue along his new trajectory as long as he was able, and now he had to deal with several distressing events at the same time. It was the worst day of his life.<p>

First, Raj had not only found a girlfriend, but he had gone to home plate with her very shortly after their relationship had begun. Surely Amy would be using that as a new method to pressure him into coitus.

Secondly, the comic book store had caught on fire. Everything in it had been destroyed. He could no longer spend hours poring over books and figurines about his favorite superheroes, finishing entire books while at the store so he could enjoy them without actually purchasing them. He'd lost his personal comic book library, his favorite place to relax outside of his apartment.

Thirdly, he was being forced by the university to continue research on string theory, which was going nowhere and had been for many years. He'd never get a Nobel Prize working in that pointless field.

Fourthly, and the worst news of all—Leonard and Penny were engaged. It wasn't the actual news of their engagement that destroyed his day, but the consequences of such an act. Leonard—how dare him—was now placing the happiness of _Penny_ above that of his roommate. For one, Leonard wanted to live with Penny. This either meant that Leonard would be leaving the apartment and moving across the hall with Penny, or that he himself would have to move across the hall so that Penny and Leonard could live in the apartment, or that he, Penny, and Leonard would live together.

None of the choices were acceptable to him. If Leonard left the apartment, he would now have to pay the full rent of the rather large unit with his meager salary. He'd also have no one to bring him to work in the morning, because Leonard would be most likely with Penny all day, sleeping in after staying up all night with each other. If he had to move to Penny's apartment… no, there'd be no chance of that. The floors, kitchen, and all porous surfaces were contaminated with makeup, alcohol and woman fluids—it would take years to sterilize all that she had tainted. Then there was the third idea—that Penny would stay with Leonard and him. If this was to happen, he'd never get a full night's sleep again, what with Penny's religious-themed coitus utterances traveling through the wall shared by their bedrooms. Not only that, but she would clog up the shower and sink with her hair, and she would always leave the toilet seat down—completely unacceptable. Besides that, she was not much of a housekeeper, and so he'd have to fix her mistakes. There were not enough hours in the day to handle the increased entropy that her moving in would add to his life.

Leonard and Penny's decision to become engaged, in short, had really screwed up his life. He could not control them like he could control Amy and his relationship status. He certainly could not try to break them up—that would make life at the apartment a living hell, what with Leonard moping around all day.

Why did life have to change? Why couldn't it stay the same? As he sat in his apartment alone, he used his fingers to count the deviations from normalcy, summarizing them in his head. Since Valentine's Day, Amy had seduced him with the perfect setup for romance, initiating a major advancement in the physical aspect of their relationship. His mother had had coitus out-of-wedlock, drowning him in hypocrisy and further confusing him as to the nature of physical intimacy. Professor Proton, his idol and reason for entering the field of science, had died. Raj was partaking in coitus, which now made him look like the only prude of the group. The comic book store, the place where he could forget all that was going on with his life, was destroyed. And now his living arrangement would be changing.

Not only that, but then Amy had said something really stupid earlier in the day.

That _they_ could live together—as in, her and him.

The problem with her suggestion was that it was not such a bad decision. It would solve the problem as to who would bring him to work in the morning, and she could split rent with him. Amy could take Leonard's bedroom and Leonard could move across the hall with Penny. Amy knew better than to slop up Sheldon's bathroom with her hair, to take over the television during his favorite programs, to turn up the thermostat to Amazonian temperatures, and to keep him awake all night with her nocturnal activities. In fact, Amy would indeed be the perfect roommate—she knew him well and unlike Leonard, she would put _his_ happiness first. In fact, she'd even made him strawberry Quik with syrup, his favorite childhood beverage, just before presenting him with her idea.

The idea just made too much sense. He hated it.

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><p>After leaving Amy's apartment hastily, his mind continued to race. If he and Amy ended up living together, all the sarcastic remarks he'd uttered in her apartment after her proposal would be that much more likely to come to fruition. Engagement, home purchasing, offspring—the thought boggled his mind. No—he didn't want change. He was happy with the way things were.<p>

He had to go—he had to get away. Away from selfish Leonard, manipulative Penny, sexed-up Raj, and opportunistic Amy. He had to think. Things _would_ be changing; there was no denying that. He just didn't want to be there when it happened.

As Sheldon boarded the Texas Eagle Amtrak train route to Chicago with his luggage in tow, he took one last look back at Pasadena. Several key inhabitants of Pasadena were forcing him to accept changes that he not only had not initiated, but also decisions with which he did not agree. Hopefully he could find solace in Princeton, New Jersey. The woman he would be seeing there was more like him than anyone else in the world. If she couldn't set him straight, no one could.


End file.
